


Christmas Messages

by satelliteinasupernova



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead Secret Santa, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Mystery, Pre-Relationship, canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/pseuds/satelliteinasupernova
Summary: Mysterious letters on Christmas day, and riddles to solve!
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 41
Kudos: 83
Collections: 6th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Bughead Secret Santa, Home for the HoliDale





	1. A mystery set up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Awkwardteenwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkwardteenwrites/gifts).



> A bughead secret santa gift for awkwardteenwrites!
> 
> Here's the set up of a good ol' holiday mystery! I'll try to have the other half completed soon!

“Merry Christmas!”

Jughead blinked against the bright light reflecting across the thick layer of snow outside of the Jones’ trailer. Standing on the other side of the doorway was Betty Cooper, bundled in a thick coat with festive reindeer ear muffs over her ears. The icy wind had turned her cheeks a charming pink, and her eyes were sparkling in the morning light.

Jughead rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand. He was still wearing pajamas. He had been awake for five minutes at most, when his phone buzzed with a series of texts from Betty, saying that she was on her way. “Betty, what…”

Determined, Betty pushed her way into the trailer. He only noticed the large bag over her shoulder when it bumped against his hip as she slid past him. He followed her into the living room.

“Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating with your family right now?”

“I did,” she said, setting her bag down on the floor. “We’re always done with gifts before nine am anyway.”

“Yeah, well,” Jughead glanced down at his pajamas. “I was planning to celebrate the holiday by sleeping in.”

Betty shook her head with a small smile, “And here I thought I was in the clear when I saw your dad downtown.” 

Vaguely, Jughead could remember his dad waking him with a pat on the shoulder. In a low tone he’d said, “Hey kid, I gotta few things to do. Let’s celebrate tonight, huh?” Moments later, Jughead had been back asleep. 

Jughead scratched at the back of his neck. “So… what’s going on?” Betty had a gleam in her eyes that made it clear she was on a mission. Whatever was on her mind, he knew he would find himself a part of it, and because it was Betty, he would do it without complaint. But he wouldn’t mind some food and a cup of coffee first.

At his question, Betty’s expression immediately brightened with excitement, and she promptly knelt down to open her bag. First, she pulled out a thermos and a box of donuts and set them down on the coffee table before returning to the bag. Jughead reached for the box, but waited for Betty to give him an approving nod before he took a donut for himself.

“I found this letter left for me this morning,” as she spoke, she pulled out a large white envelope with a fancy red ribbon glued to the front. Jughead slid around the table so he could look over her shoulder as she opened the letter.

In large, elegant lettering it read, “ _Salutations. In the spirit of the season, I gift you with a special challenge. I invite you to follow my trail of letters. Your first clue is this. Go to the person you trust the most, and there you will find your next step._ ”

Jughead reached for the letter to inspect it. The words were written in clean calligraphy. The paper was a crisp white, with no marks on the front or back of the letter. No clues to go by.

“Where did you find this?” Jughead glanced back to Betty. 

“It was… under my bedroom door this morning.” As she spoke, she looked distractedly around the room, lifting up one of the couch cushions off of the fold out bed.

Jughead looked thoughtfully back at the letter. If it had appeared in Betty’s bedroom, than it had to be from someone who could access her house, or persuade one of Betty’s parents to help them. Though, there was also the possibility that someone had broken into her home to deliver it. It was a disquieting thought. 

Whoever had sent it knew exactly how to get Betty’s attention. There was nothing that could pull Betty Cooper in like an old fashioned mystery. Out loud, Jughead pondered, “Does that phrase mean anything to you? ‘ _The person you trust most_.’”

Betty glanced up from where she had been lifting up a stack of books from the side table. “What?”

“I don’t know, it’s a pretty ambiguous clue. Is that a phrase you’ve said before? Have you talked with anyone about that? Maybe that’s who sent this.”

Betty blinked, thoughtfully, “...not that I remember.”

Jughead sighed. “Well, who do you think it’s referring to?”

This time, Betty fixed him with a funny look. “Jughead, why do you think I’m here?”

“Huh?” he said, bewildered.

She dropped the books back down on the side table in one motion. “Jughead. It’s you. Naturally,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Jughead he felt his cheeks grow red, and glanced away from her, awkwardly. “So…”

Betty moved to the other side of the room to search the TV stand. “So, another letter should be here, right? I already checked outside and around the door, but I didn’t see anything.”

“Betty…” Jughead moved beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think you’re going to find it here.” Even if Betty thought of him that way, and apparently she did, he doubted that someone else would make that connection. If anything, it was probably with Archie or Veronica. Jughead could think of at least ten possible people that someone would pick out before they would focus on him.

With a roll of her eyes, Betty said, “Well, help me look, anyway.”

While Betty focused on searching the kitchen, Jughead took over the remainder of the living room. What Jughead didn’t say was that it wasn't likely that anyone could sneak a letter into the trailer on Christmas Eve without him noticing. He wasn’t such a heavy sleeper that he wouldn’t notice someone sneaking through the front door.

Just as he was about to tell Betty they should give up, a bit of red caught the corner of his eye.

A week before Christmas, FP had brought home a small Christmas tree, only three feet high at most, and he had set it up beside the TV. They didn’t have that many Christmas decorations, so it was adorned in an old set of lights that had a number of burnt out bulbs. Jughead had found a box of old ornaments that he and Jellybean had made back when they were kids. Popsicle stick figures, seashells with Santa’s face painted on them, and cut out paper snowflakes. When they had finished decorating it, FP had almost looked like he was about to cry. It was possibly the most fitting Jones’ Christmas tree to ever exist.

What they hadn’t put on the tree was any ornaments with red ribbon, but Jughead could see one poking out under a bottom branch. When he pulled aside a wrapped gift that was blocking the tree, he could clearly see a large white envelope, just like the one Betty had found. 

“Betty,” he called, as he pulled the envelope free. Betty was beside him in seconds, excitement blooming on her face.

The lettering was identical, but the message was new.

“ _Now that one has become two_ ,” it read, “ _our game can begin in earnest. They say home is where the heart is, but where lies the stomach?_ ”

When Betty reached to take the letter from him, Jughead looked around the tree. Once again, the letter was absent of clues. He frowned, thoughtfully. “How did they know you would get your letter before someone found this?” And how did they hide it in the trailer without notice, he thought again.

Betty didn’t answer him, already focused on the new hint. “If home is like the heart, then... “ She glanced around the trailer. “A kitchen is still a part of the home, so we can mark that off.”

“Well, I know the first thing that comes to mind,” Jughead shrugged. When Betty turned to him expectantly, he continued. “If we’re talking about Riverdale. It’s Pop’s, right?” At the reminder of food, he reached over for another donut.

Betty laughed, “You would say that. Okay, let’s start there.” She grabbed the box of donuts, teasing playfully. “Go get dressed. You can eat the rest of these on the way.”

With his mouth still full, he gave a muffled reply, “Give me five minutes.” 


	2. A mystery resolution

Christmas was one of the few times a year when the diner’s parking lot could be found completely deserted. Jughead had made use of the diner’s 24-hour schedule many times in his life, and to approach it now on a quiet Christmas morning felt unexpectedly exhilarating.

“Well,” Betty said, when they reached the front entrance. “Where should we start?”

Jughead walked up the steps and checked the edges of the front door. “Nothing here. Maybe they stuck a letter in one of the windows?”

They split up to opposite sides of the building. Jughead ran his hand along the edge of each window, and checked the sidewalk as he walked. When he was just about to reach the last window, he heard Betty call for him. She was all the way on the other end of the building, but he could see she was on the tips of her toes with her face pressed against the glass. 

When he reached her, Betty spoke again, “Isn’t that a letter on the counter?” She stretched up to look past the booth next to the window. Jughead stepped up behind her and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, there it was, a white envelope with a red ribbon.

Jughead huffed, “Do they expect us to break into Pop’s?”

Betty hummed thoughtfully. “I think the door has a bolt, so lock-picking is out.”

Jughead leaned against the wall, looking over his shoulder at the card, clear in view. Maybe someone had slid it there at the last minute before the place closed for the holiday. Or maybe Pop’s was in on it himself. Either way, they weren’t going to be able to get to the letter until Pop’s opened back up after the holiday.

He glanced back over at Betty. Her expression was stubborn and thoughtful. “Your dad works shifts at Pop’s,” she said after a minute, “Does he have a key?”

Right. For a few months, his dad had been working regular shifts at Pop’s, but recently work had picked back up at Andrew’s construction. He didn’t work at Pop’s very often anymore, but he still came in to fill in shifts when needed. “I don’t know,” Jughead answered. 

He pulled his phone out and sent FP a text,  **Hey, do you have a key to Pop’s?** Not really wanting to explain the full situation, he added the half-truth.  **Betty left something there.** He showed Betty the message before he hit send, and she smiled approvingly.

Jughead wasn’t expecting a quick response, but his phone buzzed less than a minute later. 

**Yeah I can get you in** .

Not five minutes later, FP turned into the driveway in his old pickup truck. As he slid out of the driver’s seat, he was already pulling his key ring out of his coat pocket. “Need some help?”

“I’m so sorry about this,” Betty said, her voice dripping with exaggerated distress. Jughead barely managed to keep from smiling.

FP gave a small shrug. “Hey, I was already driving this way.”

Betty and Jughead followed him up to the front door.

“Where have you been, anyway?” Jughead asked. He glanced back at the truck. There was a box sitting in the front seat that Jughead hadn’t seen there the day before, but it wasn’t unusual for FP to have a couple of empty boxes lying around.

“Yeah…” FP muttered as he unlocked the door. “Keller got this fancy barbecue for Christmas, and he wanted an extra hand getting it set up.”

Jughead couldn’t see what help FP could give, since the only barbecue he had ever seen FP use was an iron grate over an open flame, but he didn’t have time to ask. As soon as the door was open, Betty slid through the door, and grabbed the letter from the counter. She held it up triumphantly as she brought it back over to them. 

“Thanks, Mr. Jones!” she said, happily. 

FP rubbed at his chin, a smile growing on his face. “Yeah, sure, Betty. Glad to help.”

After he locked the door back up, FP put his hand on Jughead’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate shake. “I’m heading back to the house. Just make sure you’re back by dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Jughead asked, only now realizing that joining Betty on her mystery hunt would end up further delaying Christmas with his dad.

“Yeah,” FP said, and he glanced over at Betty with an amused look on his face. “You kids have fun.” 

Jughead looked away, feeling his embarrassment heat his cheeks at FP’s knowing look, but Betty answered cheerfully. “We will. I’ll make sure he gets home on time.”

As FP got back in his truck and started to drive off, Jughead frowned at Betty. “How do you know we’ll be done by then, there could be 50 of these things for all we know.”

“Nope,” Betty said, with confidence. “This is the last clue. Look.” 

She unfolded the letter to reveal the new message.

_ “Congratulations. If you have reached this clue before the holiday ends, then you may have time to uncover this final secret. Within the house of tomes, you will find a gift designed only for you. Wait too long and it could be lost forever.” _

Jughead hummed, and met Betty’s eyes. “House of tomes. So.. the library?”

Betty smiled, “Probably.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Also closed for the holiday.”

“C’mon,” Betty said, sliding her arm under his. “Maybe we can find a way around that too.”

  
  
  


“I think I can get us in,” Betty said, after inspecting the front door of the library.

The Riverdale library was functional, but relatively old. It had been built around the same time as the town hall. Inside it felt mostly like a house with very wide rooms that just happened to be filled with shelves of books. 

Still, Jughead added, warily, “If an alarm sounds, we run. I want to know what’s in here, but not that much.”

“Who’s going to come? It’s Christmas,” Betty already had a bobby pin out, and she bit down on her lip as she concentrated on the lock.

“Keller,” Jughead said, “And because it’s Christmas, he’ll be extra pissed about it.”

The door made a distinct click. “Got it,” Betty said triumphantly. They waited silently as the door slid open. If an alarm had gone off, they couldn’t hear it. For a moment, they just looked at each other, then Jughead reached to help her up and followed her inside.

As they stepped into the front room, Jughead half expected to find another letter sitting on the checkout desk, out in the open like the message at Pop’s. With a cursory glance, he couldn’t see anything that seemed out of place.

“Let’s split up,” Betty whispered behind him. “Take fiction. I’ll try to the non-fiction section.”

Jughead nodded and watched her disappear behind a tall bookshelf of encyclopedias. 

He didn’t know what he was looking for. The message hadn’t given them much to go on. 

As he looked around for something to stick out to him, he went back over what they knew. Whoever had sent the messages had access to Betty’s home, or would need help from someone who did. And they were able to get access to the trailer. They also had to know that they would be able to get into Pop’s.

There was one person who had the access needed. Someone who had been acting suspiciously all day. But as much as Jughead wanted to entertain the thought, this type of scavenger hunt wasn’t exactly FP’s style. He’d need help to do something this intricate.

Out of habit, Jughead found himself in the section for mystery and crime fiction. He had regularly scoured this section of the library over the years. He was familiar enough with it that he could always tell when something new had come in because each time the familiar titles would be slightly shifted. 

He moved past the shelf A-D authors, then past E-H. Then he stopped. 

Something was off about the next section. The L Authors had been shifted and now started at the bottom shelf. It took Jughead a moment to find what was new, his eyes sliding over the shelves of books.

Then he saw his name. 

F.P. Jones III. It was printed in gold letters on a clean dark red spine. 

Betty had asked him once what his pen name would be if he got a book published.

“You have so many options,” she’d said, thoughtfully. “How will you choose?”

“I’ve always liked the idea of initials,” he answered. “Maybe I’ll keep the family name in there for once.” 

He knew who the mystery letters were from, and he knew this book was what he was supposed to find. 

Printed on the front of the book was the title,  _ Beginning works of FP Jones III _ . The very first section contained an introduction by Betty Cooper.

He skimmed the pages. The book was a printed collection of his short stories, each with their own introduction. Not all of them had been written by her either. He caught FP’s name in front of the story Jughead had written about his childhood. One of his horror stories had a note from Toni. The very last introduction was familiar for a different reason. It was a glowing introduction from a published crime author.

“Well?” Betty said. She was leaning against the end of the bookshelf, her face half hidden behind the long side of the shelf.

“Betty… I…” He was at a loss for words.

Her responding smile was shy. Slowly, she stepped toward him. “I know I didn’t have to make this a whole  _ thing _ ,” she said with a small shrug. “But after I put the book together, I wanted to make it feel special. This is in your future, Jughead Jones.”

“Betty…” he said again, his voice was lodged in his throat.

The library was mostly in shadow, but he could see that her cheeks had grown pink. She scrunched her nose, nervously. “And I guess, selfishly, I wanted to steal some of your time today.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. He swallowed before he tried to speak again. “I want… Betty, is it okay if I kiss you?”

At that, her expression changed instantly, growing into a brilliant smile that seemed to encompass her entire body. Instead of an answer, she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He could feel her smile even as she kissed him. He felt himself melt into her, his open hand anchored against her back, the other one carefully holding the book against his chest.

When she pulled away, Jughead wasn’t ready to stop kissing her. 

“I’ve got to get you back,” she said with a smile. “Your dad is excited about dinner. I helped him with a few recipes.”

Jughead laughed softly. He was still so close to her that his breath caused a few wisps of her hair slide out of her face. “So I take it he was in on all of this.”

With another smile, she kissed the side of his lip. “Of course, I’m not going to steal you away on Christmas without your dad’s permission.”

Jughead laughed, “Very noble of you.” Without releasing her, he began to move them toward the front door. “Now, let’s get out of here before we get in trouble for breaking and entering.”

  
  



End file.
